


Eighty Hours and Counting

by squire



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward morning after, Crack, First Time, Fluff, Hallucinations, M/M, Misunderstandings, Sleep Deprivation, Teensy Bit of Angst, Virgin Kylo Ren, accidental somnophilia, can't believe I am really the first one to use that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-07 05:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6788131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squire/pseuds/squire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux regularly puts off sleep to the point he's starting to hallucinate - which is a sure-fire sign for him to go to bed. Until one day, he sees something so blatantly unreal that it doesn't even occur to him that it could, just possibly, be real...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eighty Hours and Counting

**Author's Note:**

> Based on an idea that came up in conversation with [ Huxology ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/huxology/pseuds/huxology) \- I was telling them about my long time ago sleep deprivation experiments and inevitably, the words "But imagine if Hux...." came to life. 
> 
> I had much too fun writing this. I hope you'll be too, reading it:)

General Hux is walking rounds from one bridge station to the next. The very air around him seems to be crackling with energy, his tone is clipped, precisely articulated words firing off at admirable speed. The bridge crew members, one by one, straighten their spine and abject fear crawls into their gazes as he nears. By some unspoken command, as if through well-trained cooperation, they increase the tempo of their work.

At the foot of the bridge, one Stormtrooper guard leans discreetly to the other.

"He's been here on my yesterday's shift, and Fives said he's never left through his night shift, either."

The other Stormtrooper tilts his helmet. "Ah, so it's one of _those_ days."

The first one nods sagely. "Yeah."

 

*

 

It's been seventy odd hours. Hux is well into what he calls the glimmering stage and he's feeling absolutely perfect.

He doesn't push himself like this often. Well, not too often. He knows the importance of rest for the optimum brain function and adheres to the artificial circadian rhythms onboard of the Finalizer, following the same waking and sleeping patterns as the rest of his crew. But sometimes, the workload piles up so that when he finally lifts his head from his desk, it is to find that his next shift starts in an hour. Sleep at that point would only muddle his brain. Sometimes, an emergency arises (or the Supreme Leader has a course-changing idea, or Kylo Kriffing Ren has to go on a mission, or even worse, Ren isn't on a mission and gets bored) - and another standard cycle rolls by before Hux has a chance to catch up on sleep.

The hardest part is to get through the second twenty four hours. That's the stage where just about any horizontal surface suddenly seems very sleep-worthy and often it's just the severity of the situation that keeps Hux's head upright and eyes open. Sometimes, he gives up at this stage, damage control be damned, and crawls into his bed to black out for three hours at least.

But once the fifty hour mark is passed... it's as if a switch is flipped somewhere inside Hux's body. He's no longer tired. No longer sleepy. On the contrary: he's sparkling with wakefulness, vibrating with energy, every nerve ending in his body in a permanent overload, his entire structure holding on together by sheer dread of what would happen should something give in. His vision tunnels in: the centre of his focus sharp and almost unbearably bright, and everything peripheral veiled in a kind of glimmering haze. If he actually tries to sleep at this stage, it simply won't happen. His eyes refuse to close.

He's at his most efficient at this stage. His subordinates seem to pick up on the cloud of adrenaline that trails in Hux's wake and the result is an enhanced efficiency of the whole crew. If they're truly so inspired, or simply scared shitless that he could suddenly explode in a fit of unbridled fury, Hux does not know. He regards his wide, blood-shot, adrenaline-crazed eyes in his 'fresher mirror and suspects the latter.

The crash-down from this is inevitable and happens very fast. Eventually, eighty or ninety hours in, every last ounce of adrenaline is spent and the body takes what is its due. Once, Hux fell asleep walking through the corridors, and nearly face-planted himself out of an airlock. Now he knows to retire sooner than that - usually, the hallucinations are his cue. They appear as his brain's last cry for help around the eighty-four hour mark and as soon as Hux spies, for instance, Millicent parading around the bridge wearing Lieutenant's Mitaka smart tiny hat, he knows it's time to go to bed.

He knows he's risking permanent brain damage but in his secret heart of hearts, he finds those hallucinations funny. He never abuses substances for the sole purpose of altering his perception but he finds it challenging to achieve the same state by nothing but his own body chemistry and sheer force of will.

 

*

 

Hux walks down the corridor to the hangar when he suddenly stops dead in his tracks. Walking up to meet him, there's the unmistakable hunching disaster of a man, Kylo Ren. The hood of his cowl is thrown back and his mask is tucked under his arm.

Hux's fairly sure it hasn't been eighty hours yet but the last shift has been very exhausting and his brain is probably sending its warnings sooner than usual. Because there's no way in hell that the fearsome, odious excuse of a man that wrecks his ship and his plans at regular intervals should wear such a young, doe-eyed, soft-lipped face. Hux giggles. This is the best hallucination he's ever had.

In front of him, the stomping rhythm of heavy boots suddenly falters. Ren's eyes snap up to the source of the giggling and upon catching sight of the General, they widen almost comically. His hand clenches around the mask, a jerk of an aborted movement, and then he lifts his chin - crooked, weak, honest-to-stars _trembling_ \- in a haughty scowl.

"Something funny?" and oh no, even his voice is straight out of the realm of hilarious impossibilities. Vibrant, alluring, and sexy. Everything that the real Kylo Ren isn't. Hux giggles some more, enjoying the absurdity of his hallucination. He could get used to this velvety voice, instead of the rattle of that dratted vocoder, especially when it's coming out of such kissable lips...

Ren blinks - _oh stars, he has fluttering eyelashes_ \- and his jaw drops a little. "Kissable - what? Careful, General, I hear what you're thinking," he says, warning petering out into uncertainty.

"Of course you do," Hux laughs, delighted, "you're literally in my head, Ren."

"I can be," the hallucination confirms, hesitantly, and then, as an afterthought: "You don't mind...?"

Oh but this hallucination is just too perfect. A considerate Ren. Truly a product of imagination. Hux folds his arms and shakes his head at the apparition. "What am I going to do with you?" he wonders aloud. It's a rhetorical question but for some illogical - of course, hallucinations are hardly wont to follow logic - Ren seems compelled to react. Well, stutter, really, and flush.

"Do... with me?"

"Well, I hoped I'd lasted longer but seeing your lovely face swayed me considerably. And I must say, hearing your voice did rather cement the deal for me," Hux muses, still aloud. It's true: Ren's real, waking-world voice is the most off-putting thing imaginable, it makes sense that Hux's hallucination would conjure this auditory orgy of a voice to make it up to his perpetually abused ears.

"Lasted longer..." Ren repeats, faintly, frowning - and then - Hux can almost see the little lightbulb go on above his head - his face clears. And then blushes even more. And then - Ren smiles. Adorably. And looks at Hux from under his lashes.

"You shouldn't have put yourself through such a denial, my dear General. But now, tell me, what is the deal?"

"Bed, of course, what else?" Hux tells him merrily. Anything else is not an option if he doesn't want to fall asleep where he stands. The he laughs some more when Ren nearly drops his mask.

"Oh my, General, I never expected you to be so... outright."

"Unlike you, I can admit defeat," Hux intones. Then it occurs to him that this imaginary Ren is flirting with him.

Ren. Flirting. With him. Hux is surprised with the inventiveness of his own brain. He truly must have been exhausted if his emergency brakes are pulling such a stunt.

"We are not at war," Ren steps closer, biting his lower lip, and then he has the decency to drop his gaze. "Well, not anymore."

Hux could get used to this - this insecure, docile, pleasant Ren in place of his real-world, overly assertive and uncooperative self. He decides to enjoy it while it lasts, reaches out and pulls Ren closer by a handful of his awful, tattered cowl. It feels surprisingly solid under his fingers but then, his hallucinations have always been very complex.

"My lord Ren," he breathes out and delights in the way the full lips in front of him tremble under the feather-light assault, "right now, I believe I've won."

 

*

 

Ren is on him like a giant black octopus the moment the door of Hux's quarters slides shut after them. Hux is quite surprised with the hidden depths of his brain - if he ever imagined getting on slightly... more cordial terms (friendlier than the carefully cultivated, barbed-wired animosity between them) with the Master of the Knights of Ren (and he didn't, resolutely not, thank you very much) - he would've expected something in tune with the menacing aura the Knight possesses: predatory intent, reserved mastery, dark sexual energy channelled into some twisted, possibly dangerous kinks. It figures with the contrary nature of this hallucination that what he gets is basically an over-eager, horny puppy.

Big fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt and hot tongue slides into his mouth. In both cases it's quite clear that Ren doesn't know what he's doing. His tongue is like a slug on stimulants, trailing drool over Hux's chin, then there's the sound of tearing fabric and Ren curses and bites Hux's lip in what seems to be more an accident than intent judging by the stuttered apology that follows.

Hux is rather annoyed with himself. Isn't it enough that he hallucinates about his daily pain-in-the-arse, does it have to be so disappointing as well? But what annoys Hux even more is that he finds this impossible ungainliness oddly endearing. This mind-conjured Ren is so open, enthusiastic, eager to please - it appeals to something hidden deep within the General, and surprisingly, he feels himself harden in his trousers.

But with his blood relocating south in his body, Hux also begins to feel the pull of fatigue on his sleep-deprived mind. He's on the downwards slope now, the glimmering shine around the edges of his vision fading at last, and the bed looks very, very inviting. But at the same time, Hux is curious as to how far this hallucination will take him. What other absurdity about Ren his mind can come up with.

What is mind is set on coming up with is apparently a crop top paired with honest-to-stars _suspenders_ worn under the many layers now scattered haphazardly over the floor of Hux's bedroom. Hux can't help but giggle again.

"What? It's practical," Ren pouts, and Hux is going to imagine that pout next time the real Ren has an unreasonable demand.

"That would be the first such thing about you," Hux chuckles and lets himself be tackled onto the bed. The moment his flushed cheeks make contact with the cool bedding he knows that sleep is a matter of minutes.

" _Fuck_ , Hux, would you - may I –" Ren babbles even as he manhandles Hux to lie on his front and tucks a pillow under his hips, his movements unsure and frantic at once. Hux's limbs feel too heavy to move on their own, his eyelids already drooping, so he just spreads his thighs lazily and nuzzles the sheets under his face.

"Oh, by Force, Hux, you're so–" above him, Ren seems to be going through some internal crisis, or perhaps he just can't find the lube. Hux lifts one heavy hand - a monumental effort, at this stage - and waves in the vague direction of the nightstand. A slide of a drawer, a pop of a lid, and then there are slick and _freaking cold_ fingers at his hole and damn it, Ren, the sensory accuracy of this hallucination is both a marvel and a bother - it seems that even imaginary Ren lacks any semblance of manners.

"Is that - is that good? Hux?"

"Hmmmm," Hux moans weakly. It's not _good_ , truth to be told - Ren is just fumbling around, focusing too much on the rim, those long fingers of his wasted on Hux's arse as he never goes deep enough, stroking clumsily everywhere but managing to miss Hux's sweet spot every time. But it's not horrible, either, the pillow under his hips provides a nice friction on his half-hard cock, and Hux thinks that as far as crazy hallucinations go, having two nicely thick fingers up his arse is not so bad.

And then there's Ren's cock, hot and hesitating, nudging awkwardly at his hole, and the angle is wrong, and Hux thinks, fuck it, does his dream-generator have a masochistic streak or why else would it provide an imaginary Ren with a cock the size of his weapon and no bloody clue how to use it? And then the tiniest bit of his brain still awake reels a little in alarm because that _kriffing burns -_ but right in that moment the last molecule of adrenaline in his bloodstream dissolves itself, and sleep claims him like a blow to the head. There could be banthas chewing at his toenails and Hux wouldn't care. With a final happy sigh, he feels his eyes slide shut.

 

*

 

Above him, Kylo groans. "Oh _stars_ , Hux, you're so _tight_ ," and then he's gasping and nearly overbalancing because Hux relaxes all at once, going pliant under him and taking him _deep_ , and Kylo fears this is going to be over sooner than it really started - with all his fantasies coming true and better.

The General is just as slim as the uniform makes him, all lean and elegant lines, he's got freckles - and Kylo is beyond enamoured with the discovery that the freckles spread _everywhere_ , and at the same time, Hux in bed is nothing like Kylo imagined him. Gone is the uptight, scathing persona, gone is the permanent judging sneer - this Hux is playful, flirtatious, gentle, and once in bed he's so unabashedly lewd and enticing - literally _purring_ with each of Kylo's thrusts – that it will be Kylo's undoing. And truly enough, after an embarrassingly short minute, Kylo is coming inside Hux's soft, warm arse and feels as if something in his brain just cross-wired and burned out. He feels incredible. Better than - ever, really.

Catching his breath, he caresses Hux's hips and remembers, belatedly, that a considerate lover is supposed to care for their partner's pleasure. He leans down, draping his weight over Hux's adorably freckled back. "Hux? Was it good? Are you - Hux?"

Beneath him, Hux is not _purring_. Hux is _snoring_.

"Hux! You've got to be kidding me–"

Kylo jostles one lax shoulder. Nothing. He lifts Hux's hips and feels his cock. It's still half-hard, and Kylo squeezes it a little, experimentally. Hux doesn't even stir. Kylo lets go of him as if burned.

"Oh _fuck_."

 

*

 

Hux is not sure what wakes him but as soon as he is awake, his customary check-up run alerts him to several things out of line.

Firstly, he's got the duvet over him, neatly tucked to his ears - he never sleeps under just that, always he puts a sheet between himself and the duvet. It's his mother's handiwork, rather sensitive to bodily fluids.

Secondly, morning wood rarely bothers him, but now he's so hard that he could give the carbonite a run for its money.  

Thirdly, there's a sore twinge in his arse and speaking of bodily fluids, his thighs appear to be glued together in the tell-tale way that implies that last night, good time has been had - if not by him, at least by _some_ one.

Which, at last, brings his mind the roundabout way to the events of last night and Hux freezes, wishing from the bottom of his heart that this time, he is truly hallucinating.

"I know you're awake."

With great reluctance, Hux peels one eye open. True enough, his daily plague has just become his worst nightmare, and he's lying next to him, in Hux's bed, in all his naked glory.

Real-life Kylo Ren is still, inexplicably, doe-eyed and soft-lipped. But truer to his self, he's also currently trying to glower a hole in Hux's ceiling.

"You," Hux says, aware how stupid he sounds, and feeling even stupider.

"You fell asleep on me," Ren spits out, angrily, and seemingly in the middle of an argument he's been replaying in his head for quite some time now.

Hux frowns. Out of all the indignities of last night, _this_ is what annoys Ren the most?

"Well," he clears his sleep-rough throat and decides to deflect all the blame, "perhaps if you fucked me like a proper Sith lord I wouldn't have."

Ren closes his eyes, tightly. "I'm not a Sith," he gets through gritted teeth.

"Believe me, I've noticed that," Hux drawls. Ren's teeth gnash audibly and he goes on trying to scorch the ceiling with the sheer power of his scowl.

"How can you sleep for thirteen hours straight?" he asks after a moment of silence, out of the blue and sounding genuinely curious.

Oh. That explains the dire need for a piss Hux is currently experiencing. He gets up, uses the 'fresher, cleans the disgusting reminder of last night off himself. He thinks of Ren, tucking the duvet around his passed-out form, staying by his side for thirteen hours, like a loyal, over-concerned puppy. He squashes the thought. Puts on his bathrobe. When he comes back to the bedroom, Ren is, infuriatingly, still occupying his bed. Still naked.

"I believe you'd be more comfortable sulking in your own quarters," Hux prompts him. Ren treats him to an incredulous glare.

"You invited me here."

Hux sighs. This is not going to be pretty.

"I thought I was hallucinating you."

Hux can see the pieces falling together in Ren's head. It's like watching a defended castle crumble, one wall at a time.

"I've been awake for about eighty hours at the time I saw you yesterday. Usually, the hallucinations come later, but when I saw you so..." Hux waves his hand.

"Kissable," Ren echoes weakly. "You called me, in your mind... Beautiful. Endearing. Sexy. You talked about being in denial for too long, and I thought you meant - that - I should've _bloody known._ "

He rolls out of bed and begins to pick up his clothes. Big. Fit. Awkward. Adorable. Scratch that thought.

"Oh come on, Ren," Hux lashes out, "as if you seriously believe that I, in any universe, in my right mind, would consent to a fling with you."

He immediately knows he's somehow said the worst thing possible when he sees Ren coil on himself as if stung, the colour draining from his face. Then Ren straightens, stiff and turned away, and steps into his trousers. His suspenders hang limply around him, looking as pitiful as Hux is feeling. Ren's hands are shaking, clutching his overcoat to his chest.

"To think," he begins, low and trembling and _wrong_ , "that I lost my virginity to what you're going to file in as a charge of sexual assault–"

Oh fuck, _fuck_ , abort. Hux crosses the room to block the door before Ren can bolt out of it.

"I'm not," he blurts out. Swallows. Ren is not looking at him. His chin is still trembling. He's still adorable. Fuck it.

"Was that really your first time?"

Ren's hand jerks towards his hip - where his lightsaber would hang if he wore his belt. Hux has never been more glad for his co-commander's half-naked state.

"I thought you noticed," Ren parrots Hux's earlier drawl, sarcasm breaking half-way into genuine desolation.

Hux knows he's screwed. One does not become a General at the age of thirty four if one's not obsessed with claiming firsts. The first in his class. The first to graduate two years ahead of schedule. The first to command the best and mightiest ship in the First Order fleet.

"I believe I'm overstaying my welcome," Ren mutters and moves to sidestep him to get out. Hux grabs him by the arm. It has nice muscles. It has potential.

"Wait a moment, Ren." He draws a deep breath. "I am entitled to two more standard cycles off duty and it's not like your commanding duties ever adhered to a schedule. I'm wide awake. And you still look very... kissable."

Ren is clutching the lump of his clothes to his chest like a shield but he does not shake off Hux's hand.

"You're saying that because you're horny and I'm already half-naked," he sniffs.

"If I'm horny, it's your fault," Hux shrugs.

"You loathe me." The statement, however blunt, is lacking resolve, and Hux risks a small smile.

"Consider this, lord Ren," he trails his fingers up Ren's shoulder to weave them through his long, silky hair, "if you were truly so loathsome, why would I ever try to seduce you - even in imagination?"

Their second kiss is much better than the first. It looks like Ren is, against all expectations, capable of learning. Potential, Hux thinks. Definitely there.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Well, like most of my crack-fics, this is based on my real-life experience. Nope, I didn't fuck my arch-enemy while thinking him a hallucination, thank you very much. I simply once decided to find out how long I could go without sleep. I managed to get to eighty hours - and what I wrote about the glimmering stage is absolutely true - and then I fell asleep walking - through a ZOO, during a family trip - and nearly face-planted into a ditch (a water-filled moat, in fact, separating the visitors from the camel paddock), and I continued to sleep while I was manhandled back to the car, into the house, into my pyjamas and into my bed. Nineteen hours straight.


End file.
